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"Ms. Cross, I apologize," Horace said, his eyes filled with genuine regret. "I wish I could tell you more about this unique feather and how it might relate to your case."
Morgan glanced at the UV-lit feathers one last time before turning her attention back to Horace. "Your help has been invaluable, Horace," she replied sincerely, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Learning about these feathers and their hidden colors under UV light may prove to be relevant in the future."
As Morgan mulled over the new information, her mind's gears turned incessantly. The ancient lore, the symbolic nature of the feather, and the killer's attention to detail all pointed to a much larger plan at play.
"Thank you for your time," she added, offering him a small, appreciative smile.
"Of course, Ms. Cross. If there's anything else I can do to help, please don't hesitate to reach out." Horace returned her smile, his years of experience etched onto his weathered face.
Morgan nodded and stepped away from the display. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling in her gut that something big was on the horizon. This murderer – whoever they were – was out there, and Morgan intended to find out exactly what their horrible plan was, and stop them before it was too late.
CHAPTER TEN
The afternoon sun beat down unrelentingly on the parched earth as Steven wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He took a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the wooden fence that enclosed the bird pails. The air was thick with humidity, a stark contrast to the cool rain that had fallen the night before. As he tended to the birds, he couldn't help but feel grateful for this job. Life had been tough before, but now things were looking up.
"Alright, little guys, time for some fresh water," Steven muttered under his breath, pouring the contents from his bucket into the troughs. The chickens squawked and fluttered around in their excitement, splashing themselves in the cool relief it provided.
Steven's thoughts wandered to the agents who had recently come through town, stirring up old memories and trouble.
As he moved on to the next set of pails, Steven noticed a car slowing down on the road ahead. It wasn't unusual for vehicles to pass by the farm, but they rarely stopped. Curiosity piqued, he watched as the car came to a halt and a man stepped out. From this distance, Steven couldn't make out much, except that the man appeared to be relatively young.
"Damn," Steven thought, "Looks like he's got car trouble." The man lifted the hood of the car, peering at the engine with a mixture of frustration and confusion. Steven hesitated for only a moment before deciding to offer his assistance.
"Hey!" he called out, waving his hand in the air as he approached the broken-down vehicle. "Need some help?"
As Steven jogged over to the man, beads of sweat rolled down his temples and mixed with the dust on his face. He could feel the heat radiating off the blacktop road beneath him. Waving, Steven called out again, "Hey, do you need any help?" he repeated.
The man turned around, revealing a deep scar stretching from his brow to his cheekbone, with an empty right eye socket nestled beneath the damaged tissue. Despite his eerie appearance, the young man's smile was warm and genuine. "Yeah, I'd appreciate it," he said, his voice weary but grateful.
"Sure thing," Steven replied, wiping his palms on his jeans before leaning under the hood. The sunlight glinted off the metal components as he inspected the engine, searching for any obvious issues. The air smelled of hot oil and burnt rubber, making him slightly dizzy.
"Your eyes are really unique," the man commented, peering at Steven's face while he worked. "One green, one brown. Never seen anything quite like that before."
Steven glanced up briefly, meeting the man's single green eye. "Yeah, I was born with heterochromia," he explained, forcing a small smile. It wasn't the first time someone had remarked on his unusual eyes, but the comment still caught him off guard.
"Interesting," the man mused, taking a step back and folding his arms across his chest. "I guess we've both got something that sets us apart, huh?"
"Seems so," Steven agreed, turning his attention back to the car. With a sigh, Steven straightened up, shaking his head. "I can't see any obvious issues," he admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. "Maybe it's something deeper in the engine."
"Thanks for trying, anyhow," the young man replied, clapping Steven on the shoulder. His touch was surprisingly gentle, given his rough appearance.
"Sorry I couldn't be more help," Steven said sincerely, hoping to reassure the stranger despite his own misgivings. There was a momentary flash of vulnerability in the man's remaining eye, and then it was gone, replaced by that same friendly smile.
"Hey, I really appreciate you giving it a shot," the man said, adjusting his stance as he leaned against the car. The sun cast a shadow over his face, emphasizing the deep scar above his right eye.
Steven wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling the heat of the day building up around him.
"Well, maybe--" Steven started, but his voice was cut off abruptly as something crashed into the back of his head, bludgeoning him with a force that sent him reeling. Pain exploded through his skull, and his vision blurred, as if the world was slipping away from him like sand through his fingers.
"Wha-what?" he managed to stammer, trying to make sense of the situation. His legs gave way beneath him, and he collapsed onto the dusty ground. The last thing he heard before everything went black was the young man's soft chuckle floating on the hot summer air.
"Interesting indeed," the man murmured, his voice fading away with Steven's consciousness.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Morgan's fingers itched to find answers as she stood in the dimly lit evidence room, the red feather from the crime scene glowing eerily under the UV light. The tip from Horace had intrigued her; if there were hidden colors in the feather, it could lead to a significant breakthrough. Yet, as she scrutinized every inch of it with furrowed brows, nothing new met her gaze.
"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, frustration bubbling inside her. With a sigh, she switched off the UV light and carefully placed the feather back into its evidence bag. She still believed that the choice of the feather was intentional due to its perfect match with Melissa's hair color, but the question of why gnawed at her mind.
